


Tomorrow could be One Day too Late

by samstoleaburger



Series: Actor and Hunter [10]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Codependency, How Do I Tag, I Guess...?, I'm Bad At Titles, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, but that's like a very tiny one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 20:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samstoleaburger/pseuds/samstoleaburger
Summary: "My name is Jensen Ackles. I'm your copilot."





	Tomorrow could be One Day too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Rated as is mostly to be safe than sorry!
> 
> Browsed my screenshots on my phone after looking through some fics and had an idea spark. Then this happened. It could be better but let's keep in mind that I kind of fell out of the fandom (flat on my face after said fall). So I'm way out of practice with these guys, but I did touch on another fandom I like so...does that count as a win?
> 
>  Mostly decided to post this because one: got the stamp of approval from a friend of mine. Two: it's been too long since I posted anything Jean (yes, I call Jensen/Dean 'Jean,' my friend and I are so proud for coming up with that) related and it took only two nights to finish this. So I'm fuckin' proud of myself, okay?

A hand was stretched towards him in a form of greeting and Dean couldn't help the perplexed look that came as his eyes followed the arm's length to the man offering it. Honestly, he'd been trying to get some peace and quiet since going through the trials all afternoon. The Marshal hadn't been too lenient on anyone participating and Dean felt as though he got into a fight with a zamboni and lost. Horrifically.  
  
He wouldn't be surprised if he woke up covered in black and blue tomorrow.  
  
Dean's silence and lack of response didn't seem to put the guy off though. As if he already figured Dean would be too dead on his feet to bother reciprocating the handshake that was offered. Though that doesn't mean he hadn't been able to squeeze out a, "Can I help you?"  
  
A crooked grin was his response before the man moved to sit down across from Dean. "My name is Jensen Ackles." Jensen crossed his arms and propped his elbows on the table as he leaned in. "I'm your copilot."  
  
Dean rose a brow as he looked Jensen over, noting the moderate physique and the way Jensen held himself. Confident, but not enough to come off as egotistical. There was a spark of mischief too, just below the surface of his laid-back smile. The slight curve of his mouth and a certain glimmer in his eyes giving it away. Even with those facts in mind, alongside others that he probably shouldn't be thinking about his soon-to-be copilot, there was a genuine air around Jensen. One that was calming but told of a guy who put a hundred percent into whatever he set his mind to.  
  
If anything, it just gave Dean all the more reason to hope that they can make the Neural Handshake work.  
  
"My copilot, huh...?" A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. "Guess I hit the jackpot." He held out his hand this time and clasped his fingers around Jensen's the second he took hold. "Name's Dean Winchester."  
  
The slight cock of Jensen's eyebrow said enough about his impression of Dean, trail runs be damned.  
  
"Nah. If anyone hit the jackpot, it's me."  
  
Dean didn't even bother trying to smother his laughter.

* * *

Being a pilot was a greater responsibility than the general populace could ever imagine. Not only did they need to find someone to share the burden with but they also had thousands upon millions of lives riding on their success. They needed to be perfect, in sync with one another, like two halves that finally became a whole and rely on each other. Whether it be emotionally, physically or a mixture of the two.  
  
Dean knew this coming into the mix. He wasn't under the illusion that it was a one way ticket to stardom or that the people would worship the ground he walked on. Dean preferred to look at it logically, taking the burden of the world and trying to help the other pilots keep it above their shoulders.  
  
Jensen helped ease that stress and Dean knew it went both ways. Not to say they weren't without their arguments because they did have them occasionally. Dean, surprisingly, became more prone to break down first and apologize after their first few test runs in the Drift. Even though it wasn't something Dean ordinarily did, he always felt a nudge to do so whenever it came to Jensen.  
  
He'd asked Genevieve about it one night, nearly breaking down the door to the lab in his rush. She'd simply given him a look, which felt cold and analytical, before she simply stated that copilots had a very different relationship compared to 'ordinary people.' That they could and possibly would pick up each other's habits or unconsciously change a few things about themselves in the long run.  
  
The teasing, knowing smile she'd given him gave Dean the distinct impression of a shark that smelled blood in the water.  
  
Jensen didn't mention it. Whether it be because he didn't care or because he thought Dean could actually be a functioning, rational adult was up for debate. Either way, Dean was perfectly fine with not knowing. As long as Jensen didn't poke at any sensitive information, Dean was more than willing to return the favor and not be as uptight about apologizing.  
  
It worked.  
  
_They_ worked.  
  
It was good, a routine, something that ran like a well oiled machine.  
  
They went through the simulations and passed enough to finally receive their very own Jaeger. Beautiful and larger than life, sleek and downright gorgeous. Dean may or may not have stared way longer than necessary. Only to have Jensen ask if he wanted some privacy and Dean felt his ears burn as he kicked Jensen.  
  
"Shut up, you ass."

* * *

The first time they stepped into the conn-pod was almost like stepping into a whole other world. One where they were higher and stronger than ever before. Where they could fight the Kaiju and _win_.  
  
Their first drop, however, almost made all their progress up until that point come crashing down.  
  
Apparently Jensen was like a force of nature if someone hit the right buttons. Typically he was calm, reminiscent of the ocean breeze and the waves that would lap at the shores on a good day. However, as Dean found out, Jensen could be a raging storm as well. Full of righteous fury and black and white justice. It almost caused them to disconnect when it surged through the Drift the second a Kaiju tore through the street, unfortunate bystanders who couldn't get to safety ending up slaughtered like babes.  
  
Dean had to yank his helmet off the second they got back to base and disengaged. A harsh, wheezed breath was inhaled and his hands shook so bad that he nearly lost hold of the helm entirely. One look at Jensen and Dean knew, _he knew_ , that Jensen was ashamed by how violently he'd reacted.  
  
Especially when it was common knowledge that Jensen was the one to keep Dean in line. To make sure that Dean stayed on target, didn't fall back onto the old habits he'd had before they first started fighting the ugly bastards. A habit that tasted as bitter as his tears and tasted as vile the very next day. Between the two of them, Dean was the raging wildfire that consumed everything in its path once his temper was set off. Jensen was the calming sea, the rain that doused the flames and reigned Dean back in.  
  
So color him surprised when he finds out Jensen's just as volatile and dangerous if the right circumstances are met.  
  
It ended up with them being grounded. The Marshal pulling them aside after the celebration to another victory ended and made it crystal clear that Jensen wasn't allowed to set foot in a Jaeger until he said otherwise. Though Dean was sure this was also partially because of how ruthless they'd both been in killing the Kaiju, Jensen's rage burning and setting off Dean's temper at the exact same time the initial shock had passed.  
  
That hadn't been good for publicity.  
  
"Hey..." Dean leaned down and craned his head to look Jensen in the eye. He motioned toward the cafeteria with his chin. "I heard Danelle say there might be chocolate pie in the back. Want to sneak in and get some?"  
  
Jensen snorted as he nudged Dean with his elbow. "Don't be a brat. You don't want the kitchen staff mad at you."  
  
"It'd be worth it though."  
  
"Keep telling yourself that."

* * *

'Making love,' as childish as that sounded to him, was the only word Dean could think of to describe it. He couldn't find a better one for whatever _this_ was between them. It wasn't just sex nor was it flat out fucking. Yet it also lacked in some areas, as they never truly labeled it as love.  
  
The entirety of the definition didn't stick but it felt oddly appropriate at the same time.  
  
Dean had initiated the first kiss. Jensen was the one to grab Dean and throw him onto his bed. Though he didn't exactly _throw_ him, more like shoved. As they'd been getting heavy handed and were kissing when it happened.  
  
It was messy and frantic, the sheets soaked with sweat and Dean clung to Jensen the entire time. Moans were practically ripped from him, Dean's neck and collarbone littered in hickies and bites. Physical claims, exactly like the ones Dean left on Jensen's back with his hands.  
  
Words were grunted out during their bouts. Jensen would whisper praise into Dean's ear ("So good, baby. You're doing so good.") while Dean would grit his teeth ("Fuck. Right there. God, _Jensen_.") and try to keep his head above the waves of pleasure. It was mostly sweet nothings, things said in the heat of the moment.  
  
There wasn't anything that was said to elude to it being more. To there being any actual _feelings_ involved. Although, when he thought about it, that might be Dean's fault. The Drift, despite it ripping away and revealing all secrets, was also detrimental in some cases.  
  
This was on Dean.  
  
It took weeks before he finally brought it up and, by then, Jensen already knew. As the Drift showed the unease but also the desire for it to be more than it was. Luckily Jensen felt the same way. So, perhaps, 'making love' wasn't so far fetched after all.

* * *

Dean made a mistake. A huge, colossal mistake and now there's an insistent buzzing in his head.  
  
He sat up in bed, cradling his face in his hands and rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. Slowly but surely digging them in, nails leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin. Pain laced through his senses when he took a deep breath, jarring his ribs. Ribs he supposed were now broken.  
  
There was a slow, consistent ' _beep_ ' right next to him. Though, with how he felt right then, it sounded more like a war gong. Banging against his eardrums, nearly overriding the static in his head.  
  
"Ranger Winchester?"  
  
Dean pressed the butt of his palms into his closed eyes with a hiss.  
  
"Ranger Winchester, please, lay back down. It's too soon for you to be moving yet." The sound of rustling paper, albeit soft and normally easy to ignore, now sounded like a living hell. "You've sustained quite a few injuries. Three broken ribs, a hairline fracture in your right leg and you also sprained your wrist. I've ordered the nurse to administer some morphine the second you woke up, but you've been under for a few days. We were starting to think you wouldn't make it."  
  
The doctor had to be older than his dad. With how sincere his voice was, almost whiskey rough, and how he delivered the news like he was hoping Dean would follow his advice to lay down. There was an undertone of something though. Like he was debating on whether or not to say more.  
  
A simple trailing off that could be anything but -  
  
Static. Buzzing. The continuous white noise.  
  
"Ranger Winchester, you're going to hurt yourself. Please, calm down."  
  
Where was Bobby - _Marshal_ , he corrected - and why hasn't Jensen said anything yet? Usually he'd be awake before Dean and telling him what happened before the doctor even set foot in the room. Normally, he'd be running his fingers through Dean's hair to help him through the Ghost Drift, as Dean always had a harder time working through it.  
  
Dean pried his fingers from his head and looked up, only to see the doctor shift just slightly once he locked eyes with him. He blinked, slow and easy, before Dean cast a quick, surveying glance over the room. He knew he was in the med bay, that much was a given. Especially when the Kaiju they just fought put up a hell of a fight and the scars that resulted from damage to their Jaeger were sure to be nasty.  
  
That being said...  
  
_Where was Jensen_?  
  
"Jensen..." He turned toward the doctor once more. "Where's Jensen?"  
  
The minuscule shift in the man's face said it all and Dean had to fight down a wave of nausea as flashes of the fight returned to the forefront of his mind.  
  
They'd been careful, having learned their lesson after their first fight with the Kaiju. The fight had taken place just on the border of Kansas, civilians having been evacuated and the only true collateral damage had been the surrounding area. It was fairly simple, all things considered, and Dean had taken his eye off the battlefield for just a second.  
  
Just that one second, satisfaction for a job well done thrumming through their connection. One second of a, "First one's on me," and Jensen's hearty laugh. _One second_ was all it took for things to go to Hell.  
  
A second Kaiju came rushing in, too fast, too soon, and they didn't have enough time to react.  
  
Jensen's shock bled into the Drift and Dean's panic began to shake the Neural Bridge once the damn thing's clawed hand gripped the Jaeger's right leg, metal screeching and bending as it was crushed. Pain nearly causing Dean to black out and stumbling to stay upright once the Kaiju tore it off. Jagged pieces of machinery spilling out alongside oil and -  
  
And Jensen -  
  
Jensen was -  
  
A pained wheeze squeezed itself out of his throat and Dean curled in on himself. He grabbed at the hospital gown, eyes wide and sucking in gasping breaths. Enough but _not enough_ air getting into his lungs. His eyes burned as he blinked, trying to wrap his head around what happened.  
  
Around the fact that Jensen - stable, kind, genuine, loving Jensen - wasn't going to be there to soothe the Ghost Drift's after affects. He wasn't going to be there for Dean to pass him a bottle to celebrate another win. He wasn't going to be there for Dean to whisper, 'I love you,' into his skin at night.  
  
Jensen wasn't -  
  
"Ranger Winchester, stop! You need to - Nurse! _Nurse_!"

* * *

Dean groaned as he rolled onto his side, the crunch of gravel not going unnoticed while he cracked open his left eye. A steady stream of sunlight peeked through the flimsy fabric of his tent, both warming and lighting the space all at once. He heaved a sigh as he pushed up on his elbow, slowly moving to sit up and made sure to be mindful of the small lamp hanging overhead. Not wanting to get off to a bad start to his day by hitting his head on it, Dean nudged it aside with his hand and covered his mouth to stifle a yawn.  
  
He cast a brief glance toward his duffle bag and reached over to pull it closer. With a quick flick of the wrist, Dean unzipped it and pushed the folds aside to take stock of his preserves. Taking out a can of fruit, Dean zipped the bag shut before popping the top and dug his spoon out of the can he'd eaten from last night. With a courtesy brush of his thumb over the surface, he stuck it into the can and began to eat.  
  
As he chewed, Dean curled his legs up, resting the bottom of the can on his knees and stared at the entrance to his tent. It was quiet, for the time being, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before the others on site began to stir as well. He let go of the spoon, momentarily letting it lay inside the can, while twisting his arm to look at his watch to see how early he'd woken up this time. Thankfully it wasn't a nightmare that forced him to open his eyes unlike a few days prior.  
  
Nightmares, however, were commonplace nowadays. Given the monsters that came during any and all hours of the day. Anyone in this day and age had them, ranging from the elderly, adults and even children. The fear, although rampant most days, wasn't misplaced. As Dean's seen these creatures firsthand and he can honestly say he's not the biggest fan. Nor does he want to see them up close and personal ever again.  
  
Meanwhile, politicians had sworn to come up with a solution but it was a fuck all one at that. Dean knew that if he wasn't desperate enough to feed himself, he wouldn't be doing something this suicidal. What they'd come up with was useless, considering how hostile the Kaiju were and how something so fragile stood no chance against them.  
  
They were only getting bigger, meaner, nastier and, as much as he hated to think it, _smarter_. They were making a comeback and it was starting to look like when this all started years ago. Funny how that works.  
  
Dean took hold of his spoon and went back to eating, the lull of a bird's lullaby twittering in the background.  
  
For once, despite the constant noise he's dealt with since then, it's never felt so _quiet_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case it was hard to tell near the end: this fic takes place over the course of time and whatnot. I did **not** have it in me to write a long fic. As, I'm sure it's obvious, I don't know much about Pacific Rim except the bare basics from the movie.
> 
> I should probably also mention that this was actually a huge mess before I reordered everything so it flows better than it did before I started. Like how, surprise, the last bit was written _before everything else_.


End file.
